


Right Behind You

by jackintheboxx



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 19:50:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackintheboxx/pseuds/jackintheboxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They run in the rain because Derek needs to clear his head, and it’s the best way he knows how.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Behind You

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a short drabble I thought of while I was, go figure, jogging in the rain. There's really no point to this story other than showing a little piece of Stiles's and Derek's relationship and how they handle things. This can be anytime during or after Season 3, whatever you prefer. 
> 
> Comments are always welcome!

They run in the rain because Derek needs to clear his head, and it’s the best way he knows how. Stiles offers to join him on the basis of moral support, but his clumsy feet are always a few steps behind. He often finds his ankle twisting over a dip in the road or the toe of his sneaker catching the corner of a curb because he isn’t paying attention. His attention is glued to Derek’s back, the plain white t-shirt clinging to his skin. Derek claimed he didn’t want to be weighed down by a jacket, which made Stiles roll his eyes. It’s hard to follow a man who is aimlessly running around the neighborhood with no planned route. But Stiles reasons that if he can complete the task in gym, he can follow a peeved werewolf through the streets of Beacon Hills. 

Stiles has his red hoodie-sweatshirt on. The few pieces of hair that poke out are drenched and plastered to his forehead. The light rain droplets make his skin itchy and moist. He wants to scratch at his hands and at his legs, but he doesn’t because then he’ll definitely fall over. He feels like the sky is gently spitting at him as he tries to keep up with Derek’s steady strides. 

Derek doesn’t turn around to make sure that Stiles is there. He doesn’t have to. Stiles knows that he can hear his heartbeat and smell him, besides the fact that his footfalls are loud enough and whenever he hits something he’s not supposed to, he curses. He hears Derek chuckle quietly when he rams his hip into a car, and exclaims, “Oh please, oh please, don’t let the alarm go off.” 

Stiles understands that it still isn’t always easy for Derek to just open his mouth and have feelings spew out. He understands that Derek clenches up, grinds his teeth together and digs his fingernails deep into the palms of his hands because talking is hard for him. Derek feels like if he burdens Stiles with his emotions, Stiles will just magically disappear. Anyone Derek has opened up enough for to care about has managed somehow to slip through his grasp. So Stiles is careful and knows when to press and be annoying, and when to be silent and go on a run with him. 

Derek has a canny knack for taking all the supernatural responsibilities of Beacon Hills upon his shoulders. Sometimes Stiles almost catches his shoulders sagging beneath the weight. 

Derek stops suddenly, coming to a graceful stop while Stiles tramples into his back. “A heads up would’ve been nice, Rocky,” grumbles Stiles, grimacing as Derek affectionately tugs the red hood over his eyes. 

Stiles peels the damp fabric off of his forehead, and realizes where they’ve stopped. “My house?” The Sheriff’s car is in the driveway and there’s a light on in the kitchen. 

“Yeah, your dad invited us for dinner. I figured since we were already out…” Derek allows his voice to trail off, as an ill-hidden smirk graces his features. 

Stiles is wet and pouty. “I could have driven behind you in my Jeep if I knew we were ending up back at my house.” He pokes Derek in the chest as they reach the front door. “No change of clothes for you.” 

Derek shakes his head, as if he knows he’ll get a change of clothes regardless. The Sheriff wouldn’t let him sit at the dinner table looking like a soaked dog. He opens his mouth to say something, but he closes it as they both hear the Sheriff’s voice from inside, “One minute!” 

Derek presses his lips to Stiles’s wet skin, almost murmuring thanks against his forehead. He leaves his hand against the back of Stiles’s head for a moment, just as the front door is opening.

It’s enough for now, and Stiles has a feeling that Derek will talk once they get back to his apartment later. Even if it’s only a little bit.


End file.
